Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply. I have been busy murdering people (not literally), so thought I should try to remember how to write something more romantic... well, eventually it is... This was going to be the basis of a longer story, but I turned it into a few chapters instead.

"Have you seen this?" Barbara said as she burst into Tommy's office.

He looked up and frowned. His sergeant was red in the face and he expected steam to jet from her ears any second. "What?"

She waved a piece of paper in the air. "This!"

"My eyesight isn't what it once was. I have trouble reading 8-point font from four foot away when it is being waved around in Hurricane Havers."

Barbara grunted something it pleased Tommy not to hear, then slapped the paper onto his desk. "Paragraph Three, the bit that says 'Intuitive Methods of Detection, Guest Lecturer: Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers."

"Ahh, yes... that."

"Don't ahh, yes that me. Did you do this? Part of your 'personal development of Havers plan'? Because I am not happy. Not happy at all. And I'm not doing it."

"Did you read paragraphs five and six? You will see I have to endure a lot more."

"This is not a 'who is worse off' competition. You can speak eloquently in public. You went to Eton; you're trained for this stuff. I'd be that nervous I'd… well, you know the rest of the saying."

"Well, we don't want that."

"So you'll fix it?" The tension in her shoulders eased, and she sat in his visitors' chair.

"If you mean will I get you out of it, then no. I will help you become a more confident speaker." He held up his hand when she protested.

"Fine!" Barbara turned and stormed from his office, slamming the door so loudly that Tommy jumped.

"Still not happy," Barbara said as they arrived at the conference venue.

"Just remember what we practised and it will be fine."

Barbara harrumphed and folded her arms across her chest which made Tommy smile. He turned to look out of the driver's window so she would not see how much her petulance amused him.

The conference centre was, in reality, a large, impersonal chain hotel with over 200 rooms. The reception foyer was bland and soulless, and Tommy sensed the rooms would be full of deathly dull creams and faux birch. Tommy twitched his nose and tried not to be judgemental. It was far from his taste in decor. As they checked in he noticed a sign explaining politely that the criminologists had been assigned rooms on the top floor, inspectors and above to the middle, and sergeants and below to the entrance level. The hotel's idea of efficiency offended him. There was nothing about this conference that would be enjoyable save for spending some time with his sergeant away from the time pressure of solving crimes.

Tommy carried Barbara's bag to her room. A large sliding glass door opened into a verdant lawn edged with hedges trimmed with military precision. "Not too bad," he said cheerfully.

"Yeah, surprisingly nice. And close to the restaurant."

Tommy smiled. "Yes, that is important. Shall we meet there in twenty minutes?"

Barbara glanced at her watch. "Yeah, I am hungry."

"I assumed that. see you then."

Tommy took his bag upstairs and felt instantly guilty. His room, although identical to Barbara's, faced further south so that the sun streamed in. It overlooked a sprawling lawn that led to a large ornamental lake. As hotel views went, this was quite peaceful. He sighed. "Pity you're stuck down there," he muttered as he hastily unpacked.

He arrived at the restaurant just as Assistant Commissioner Hillier approached from the other side. "Ah, Lynley. Settled in?"

"Yes, Sir."

Tommy noticed Barbara trying to sneak around behind them and gave her a disapproving look. After years together, they didn't need more than a quick glance to understand exactly what the other was thinking. Barbara rolled her eyes as she moved next to him.

"Ah, Sergeant Havers, there you are. Ready for your big session? I hope Lynley's faith in you is not misplaced. It is important that the Met appears professional and trustworthy."

Tommy winced even before Barbara gave him a withering look. "Thank you, Sir, for your confidence in me. I can guarantee that you will find my style somewhat different to most lecturers, but if the Inspector believes I can do the Met proud, then I hope I live up to his expectations."

Lynley's face was impassive as he watched Hillier try to decipher whether Barbara had just insulted him. Finally, Hillier must have given up and decided it was best to say something neutral. "Yes, well good luck, Havers."

"Swarmy, self-serving piece of dog…"

"Yes, yes," Tommy said as he took her elbow and steered her towards the buffet. "Come on, before lunch gets cold."

Tommy could feel Barbara's foot tapping beside his throughout the long introduction by Hillier. Finally, their boss stopped and handed over to the head criminologist from the University of Essex.

"Welcome, gentlemen." A slight murmur when around the room from the significant number of women present. The man lifted his glasses and peered at the audience. "Ah… and ladies."

Barbara leant across. "He looks like Mr Bean."

Tommy coughed to cover his laugh. "He does, but stop it."

Malcolm Scott moved his hands nervously in a half flicker then shifted one leg across the other and took an unusual step forward. His slightly balding head, nerdy brown corduroy jacket with worn leather elbow patches, straggly brown hair and crooked nose added to a sense of Beanness, even though the resemblance was more in his behaviour than his look. Right on cue, as he started talking, he tripped over the microphone cable and knocked the lectern. As he reached for it he bumped his head and ended up falling awkwardly into a chair. With a quick glance around, he rose then continued as if chaos was his normal state. Most of the audience were biting the soft flesh between their thumb and forefinger or finding other ways to stifle their laughter.

"Mr Bean 2 we should call him." Barbara leant over. "He's going to be a hard act to follow."

"Apparently he is brilliant."

"At what? Stand up comedy?"

"Don't be uncharitable, Barbara." He smiled as she grunted and turned her attention back to Scott.

Half an hour later Scott's discussion came to an abrupt end when he flicked the old style slide projector back and forth so quickly that the lamp blew. "Thank the stars he's finished. Oh shit, I'm on."

Genuine fear contorted her face into a semi-rictus. Tommy leant over and took her hand. "You'll be fine. Remember, just look at me if you get lost or scared. I'm... like your haven. Just pretend there's no one else but me here."

"Ta." Barbara nodded. She had gripped his fingers so tightly that when she released them, they throbbed. "But then I might really say something unbecoming of the Hillier's vision for the Met."

He smiled. This time it was not amusement but his increasingly familiar urge to kiss her. He closed his eyes. "You'll be perfect. You'll wow them."

"Wow them? This isn't Miss World."

This time he did not disguise his thoughts. He grinned salaciously. "Pity, I'd love to see you stand up there in a swimsuit."

Barbara's jaw dropped then snapped shut. "Oh, ha bloody ha. Just to give Hillier a conniption?"

"Among other reasons. See, you're smiling. That's much better. Now, up you go. You will be brilliant."

Tommy watched proudly as Barbara did wow the audience. Most of the time she looked at him, but she disguised it well with a routine, but unseeing sweep of her head around the room. She was direct, clearly explaining the difference between theory taught at Hendon and the practicalities in the field. She used several of their cases to illustrate her approach.

"And being partnered with someone who has a different outlook on life is vital to achieving the broadest view of a suspect or witness. My partner of the last decade is better educated, comes from a more privileged background, and has all the female suspects swooning. That's a great distraction by the way, as it gives me time to sum them up. And if they pretend they don't fancy him, then I really am suspicious of them."

Laughter rippled around the room. Someone clapped too enthusiastically and with odd syncopation. Tommy glanced over to see Mr Bean 2 standing and clapping before pulling out his phone and taking photos of Barbara. Tommy's protective instinct roared to life. "She is my sergeant, mate," he muttered. He was one second away from going over and punching the odious little man when Barbara finished. Everyone clapped.

Scott walked over and grabbed Barbara, then kissed her on the cheek. "Wonderful, Sergeant. Wonderful."

Tommy saw Barbara's face tighten. He jumped to his feet and strode towards them. She looked relieved. "Right on cue," she told the audience, "my partner, DI Lynley."

Tommy raised his hand and waved, painting on a smile. He paused long enough for it to be polite before he seized her hand and pulled her gently towards him. It surprised him that she did not shake him free, but her hand was trembling. He squeezed it reassuringly and led her back to the table.

"I feel like I need to scrub my face."

Tommy let her hand go. "A bathroom break?"

"Yeah, ta." Barbara did not sit but continued to the door.

Tommy sat and looked back at the small dais as Scott introduced the next speaker while his eyes never left Barbara until she exited the room. Tommy disliked the man intensely, and if Scott thought he had a chance with her, Tommy was confident she would reject Mr Bean 2 instantly. The real question was, if he ever picked up enough courage, would she also reject him?

"Thank goodness that's over," Barbara said as she stood and stretched. She waited until the aisle between the tables emptied before she stepped out. "What time is breakfast?"

Tommy had waited behind her, pressing as close to her as he dared. "Eight, I believe."

She looked at her watch. "That's nine hours away. Why can't they eat at a decent time like good working class coppers?"

He was bemused but also wary of a them-versus-us argument. He did not have the energy for that tonight. "We've just finished dinner."

"And the speeches. The dull and never-ending speeches."

"Just be grateful that breakfast is a scheduled event or we would back in here for more lectures while we gobbled our wheaties."

She paused as they reached the corridor, but turned and walked towards her room still talking to him. Tommy automatically accompanied her. "Hmm, point taken. I couldn't stand any more of that." She stopped at her door. "All afternoon it felt as if Scott was watching me. I'm glad they sat us a long way away at dinner, but I could feel him watching me. And if his Bean antics weren't enough, he has appallingly bad breath too."

Barbara opened the door and waited for him to enter. Tommy hesitated but decided the risk of being seen entering her room was less than his need to stay close to her. "He looks as if he would. Should I bribe a waitress to ensure we are always seated beyond his breathing range?"

"Yes, just don't offer her your body."

Her words made him stare at her. Her voice was slightly playful, but not enough to be sure she was implying that his body was spoken for. He grinned at her. "Never. I am extremely particular about who I offer my body to, Barbara."

"Good to know." She threw her bag onto the only chair, then sat on the bed and bounced up and down to test the springs. The frame groaned in protest. "So am I."

"You offer my body to people?" Tommy sat next to her.

"No, I meant my body. I am fussy who I offer it to. No, actually I don't offer it to anyone." Her face flushed deeply. "You know what I mean. How did we start this conversation?"

"I know, but it was fun to see your reaction." He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "You don't have to worry about Mr Bean. You have me to protect you."

"My white knight?"

"Something like that." He kissed the top of her head.

Since the Thompson case, they had grown physically closer, often touching each other on the arm or shoulder. A week ago that had gone further. Barbara had been at his flat going through a hodge-podge of notes to write up their reports. When they finished, he offered her a drink and put on some Debussy. As they sat sipping whiskey, he had put his arm around her. Instead of pulling away, she had snuggled against him. They had talked about Tania and their reactions, and how lonely they both were except for each other. It had surprised Barbara that he did not consider he had many friends, but she understood. They both did. Without the other, they no reason to live. Not they either of the said as much, but it comforted Tommy that they had taken a significant step forward. Now, when the time was right, he needed to move it forward again.

He looked down. She was watching him, almost expectantly. He moved closer. "Barbara... I... should go."

She had also leant towards his face and now jerked back. "Yes, it's getting late, and you have a big day tomorrow, " she told him as she stood, her strained voice sounding like a schoolmarm.

"If I stay any longer..." Tommy pushed himself off the soft bed and stepped close to her. He put his hand on her arm and rubbed it gently. She closed her eyes. "We have your reputation to think of, and..."

Barbara pulled from his arm and stood. "Of course, Sir. Both our reputations. Good night." She opened the door.

"Goodnight, Barbara. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Goodnight, Sir. Sleep well."

The door closed in his face. "I want to stay," he murmured as he rested his head on the pale fake timber, "more than anything."